


Even On The Darkest Night

by rockmusicplays



Series: Lonely In Your Nightmare [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Awesome!Alpha Scott, Cuddling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Kissing, Mild Gore, Mild Language, Sharing a Bed, Stalia, Stiles Has Nightmares, The McCall Pack is Full of Small Children, Werewolf!Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-17 16:11:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1393978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rockmusicplays/pseuds/rockmusicplays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Its been six months since their proxy sacrifices powered up the Nemeton and screwed up their already complicated lives almost beyond recognition. The pack has settled into a comfortable routine, and it's finally starting to feel like things are getting back to normal. Normal for them, anyway. But some wounds take longer to heal than others, and some you never see coming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Even On The Darkest Night

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd. (This took forever and I just want to get it posted already)
> 
> Guys, I'm so sorry for the delay. Really. This story just kind of got away from me. Plus once I decided to go ahead with this series, I thought it might be a good idea to sit down and decide where exactly I was headed with it. It also required figuring out the timeline. Pro Tip: DO NOT TRY TO FIGURE OUT THE TEEN WOLF TIMELINE. I wasted an afternoon on this endeavor, and the end result was a collection of sticky notes to rival Stiles' season 3 crime wall and a tension headache. And I still can't figure out where Cora fits in. *sigh* So this series takes place in my version of the timeline. And in my version, _Visionary_ happened to Peter, not Derek. Because lets face it, that makes way more sense.
> 
> I'm also kind of amused by how many of the little things I put in here ended up being surprisingly close to canon by the end of the season.
> 
> Title borrowed from Duran Duran's _Lonely In Your Nightmare_.

Lydia's car and Derek's SUV were already parked out in front of the Hale house when they arrived. Stiles pulled up alongside the former Alpha's soccer mom ride, Scott and Isaac tumbling out of the Jeep before Stiles could even get his key out of the ignition.

It was habit by now for him to sweep the area before leaving the safety of the vehicles. Not because Stiles was expecting danger, but because werewolves were assholes. He had made a point of picking Scott and Isaac up specifically to limit the number of people who would be trying to sneak up on him in the near-dark.

There was no sign of Lydia or Kira, and if they weren't sitting on the rotting porch steps, it meant they were still setting up a perimeter in the woods. Argent had left Derek a crate of emitters to place around the Hale property, creating a safe zone for them to use while Stiles and Malia were still working on control.

The pack was fresh out of human allies, which left the task in Lydia's hands. The emitters had no effect on her, and while Kira could still hear the high-pitched shriek, it didn't bother her nearly as much as it did the wolves. She mostly tagged along to keep Lydia company. The banshee wasn't fond of wandering the woods by herself.

With Kira otherwise occupied, that just left Malia and Derek to worry about. Scott's attention was on the tree line, waiting for the girls to appear. Isaac hovered nearby, hands in his pockets.

Stiles skirted the porch, opting to slip through the hole in the kitchen wall and hopefully avoid getting his ass tossed out on to the lawn again. As much as Derek insisted that these full moon runs were serious business, it didn't stop him from acting like a giant five-year-old when given the chance.

Stiles dropped into a crouch in the shadows beside what remained of the kitchen cabinets. The house was silent, but he knew it wasn't empty. Sifting through the creaks and moans of the wind twisting through charred wood and the rustle of bare tree limbs, he honed in on movement above his head, and to his right.

Confident that Malia was lurking upstairs and Derek was currently sneaking out the back, he strolled into the front hall and waited at the bottom of the staircase.

Childish as it seemed, this was actually one of the training exercises Derek and Scott had come up with. Heightened senses were incredibly useful, but only if you knew how to use them. Knowing you were going to get pounced on and humiliated if you weren't paying attention was a surprisingly good incentive, to the point where it had been weeks since any of the pack members had been able to get the drop on him. Lydia included. Apparently among her numerous talents was the ability to be stealthy as fuck while wearing three-inch heels.

It was sort of fun, really. At least compared to some of the other crap Scott had them doing. Most of that involved sitting around the loft or Scott's room, unsheathing and retracting their claws over and over again or practicing a partial shift. Claws, fangs and glowy eyes, nothing more. That was the worst. Stiles' jaw would ache for hours afterward.

Malia emerged from her hiding place, picking her way over broken chunks of wood and plaster. She plopped down on the top step, hands dangling between her knees. "What gave me away?"

"You were fidgeting," he replied, drumming his fingers against his thigh for emphasis.

"Hmm. Not bad."

Stiles shrugged. " Aren't you gonna come down here and say hello?"

"I was thinking about it."

"Oh, that's nice. You haven't seen me in three days, and you're thinking about it?" he asked, feigning hurt. "You could at least pretend like you missed me." He gave her his best kicked-puppy look, and she had the nerve to laugh at him.

Outside, Isaac yelped.

"How have you survived this long?" Derek sighed. There was a muffled _thump_ , and Derek grunted. A second, louder impact was followed by Isaac calling a Derek a string of increasingly creative names. Scott came wandering inside, rolling his eyes. The Betas followed a moment later, Derek holding Isaac in a headlock.

"Oh my god, you're hopeless," Stiles said gleefully. Isaac snarled at him, eyes flashing gold. Derek ruffled his hair before releasing him. Scowling, Isaac retreated to the living room doorway and out of Derek's reach.

Malia vaulted over the handrail, landing neatly across from Isaac. "Don't you ever get tired of picking on him?" she asked, coming up behind Stiles and sliding her arms around his middle. She rubbed her cheek against the back of his shoulder, squeezing him tight. An unspoken _of course I missed you._

"Nope," Derek replied.

"Never," Stiles agreed, lacing his fingers through Malia's. _I missed you, too._

"What the hell did I ever do to you guys?" Isaac huffed.

"Wow. I don't even know where to start with that one," Stiles said. "Mostly, it's that thing you do where your mouth opens and words come out."

"Right," Isaac said dryly. "Because I'm the annoying one."

"You're both annoying," Scott groaned.

"True," Derek acknowledged.

"Ah, but I happened to be adorable. I'm also hilarious," Stiles pointed out, offended.

Derek snorted.

"At least my personality isn't ninety percent scarf," Stiles added, smirking.

Isaac growled, low and threatening. Stiles knew better than to antagonize him so close to moon rise, but he couldn't help himself. They'd made an effort to not be openly hostile towards one another for Scott's sake, and at some point the mean spirited back-and-forth they had going developed into something akin to actual friendship.

It amused the hell out of Derek and Malia and frustrated Scott.

"All set!" Kira called out cheerfully, kicking up dead leaves as she jogged across the lawn, Lydia following along behind her at a slightly less enthusiastic pace. The wolves came outside to join them, Scott heading straight for the Kitsune and kissing her hello.

The sun was sinking low behind the trees, and Stiles was getting antsy. Their little game had helped focus his hyperactive wolf senses but did nothing to curb the tension that had been building since yesterday afternoon. Bickering with Isaac hadn't done much for him either.

It was frustrating. Just when Stiles thought he was starting to get a handle on this werewolf thing, the full moon would roll around and prove just how not okay he actually was. At least with Scott as his Alpha, Stiles had been spared the fucked-up initiation Peter had put Scott through. He knew he had Stiles' loyalty long before either of them were bitten.

Not to say that Stiles wasn't making progress. Each time he shifted, regardless of the time of month, it got a little easier to keep himself in check while his claws were out. And he was miles ahead of where he'd been that first night.

His concerns regarding what remained of the Hale house had proven to be quite valid.   
Derek and Peter had put themselves in charge of wrangling Malia, leaving Scott and Isaac to deal with Stiles. Despite her technically being the more experienced werewolf out of the two of them, everyone was more concerned about how Malia would fair. Stiles included.

Having already seen Scott and Isaac go through their first change, Stiles had a pretty good idea of what to expect. He was going to be in for a long, terrifying night, but he'd survive.

Malia hadn't experienced a change in eight years, and even with Scott and Derek's help, she hadn't been able to trigger it at will. The best explanation Derek could give them was that Malia's situation was comparable to someone having to relearn basic motor functions after a serious head injury.

The instinct and know-how were there, but her body wasn't cooperating. Which was why she had been able to make use of her heightened strength, speed, and senses in her human form with varying degrees of success in the weeks after Scott had forced her out of her coyote pelt.

Having the change forced on her by the full moon pushed her past whatever it was that was holding her back. And that had been the end of the good news.

Between the two of them, Stiles and Malia took out a wall, what was left of the ground floor windows, and one of the support beams on the front porch. His memory of that night was mostly a haze of rage and pain.

The next morning, he found himself holed up under the staircase, Malia asleep in his arms and Scott and Isaac at his back. Derek had dozed off sitting up against the wall opposite them, Peter snoring away on the dining room table.

The pack was grumpy and tired and sore, and while it hadn't gone as badly as it could have, none of them were interested in a repeat.

Using the emitters had been Allison's idea. Rather than being confined to the house, the wolves could run off some of their aggression in the surrounding woods instead of taking it out on their pack mates.

It was thanks to her they'd been left in Derek's possession in the first place. She'd also managed to convince her father to part with a complete copy of the Argent family Bestiary before he left town, along with the information they'd collected over the years regarding various strains of wolfsbane, their uses, and level of potency. Allison had made sure that she left her friends with the tools necessary to protect themselves from whatever trouble found the pack next.

Peter had stuck around that second night just long enough to be sure that their plan was actually going to work, promptly tapping out the second things devolved into what he referred to as a 'deranged game of tag.'

To be fair, his swift departure had less to do with him not wanting to rough house with a bunch of teenagers, and more to do with the fact that said teenagers had been pretty keen on chasing him through the woods all night like he was the rabbit at a dog track.

Isaac bumped his shoulder against Stiles', giving him a grin that was all fang. He narrowed his eyes, unsure if Isaac was still pissed at him, or if he was just being a jackass. Planting his hand on the side of Isaac's face, he shoved the other wolf out of his personal space.

Isaac returned the gesture, snatching at Stiles' wrist to keep him from retaliating. Stiles kicked him in the shin. Making a frustrated sound, he jerked his head in Lydia's direction. His control was hanging by a thread, and he didn't want to do anything that would put their most vulnerable pack member in harm's way. Isaac nodded and backed off.

Lydia had been following the exchange with a sort of exasperated amusement. "Seriously you two? Again?"

"Still," Scott corrected her, shooting a dark look at his unruly Betas.

"Just think," Lydia said, patting Scott's shoulder sympathetically. "If things work out between your mom and the sheriff, you could be living with that soon."

"That's not funny, Lydia!" Scott looked downright horrified, like the thought had never even occurred to him. The possibility had crossed Stiles' mind after a few dates turned into a few more, but he was confident he could convince his dad to hold off on that particular step until after graduation if it ever came to that. For the sake of everyone involved.

"Yes it is," she said sweetly.

Kira and Malia were both laughing, Derek looked like he was trying very hard not to. Scott pouted.

"Some friends you are," he grumbled. Kira gave Scott a sheepish smile, rising up on her toes to wrap her arms around his neck. The Alpha leaned gratefully into her embrace. Like Derek, it was easy to forget that Scott had to struggle against his wolf tonight, too. 

"Well, I'll leave you guys to it," Lydia said, heading for her car. "Try not to do any permanent damage to each other."

"No promises!" Stiles called after her.

"If I have to spend the whole night playing referee for the two of you again, I'm gonna make you both regret it," Scott warned.

"Yeah, how about you do us all a favor and just go chase your tail?" Isaac suggested as Lydia pulled her door closed.

It was Stiles' turn to growl, and this time there was nothing holding either of them back. Stiles launched himself at Isaac, shifting as he hauled the other Beta to the ground.

"Here we go..." Scott muttered.

The pack stood back and let the pair of them tussle for a few minutes, until Isaac landed a blow to Stiles' side that drew blood. Malia got in between them, slamming against Isaac's chest hard enough to make him stumble. Kira caught his arm, tugging him along beside her as she broke into a run.

Wincing, Stiles got to his feet, hand going to the slash marks. Scott planted himself in Stiles' path to keep him from following them. Stiles knew the routine by now. _Breathe. Keep breathing. Relax._ Once the urge to maim had subsided a tad, he nodded to let his friend know he was okay.

Derek was having a harder time getting through to Malia. Stiles loped over to them, letting out a short, soft howl to get her attention. He wouldn't go as far as to say that Malia was his anchor, but having her close made it easier to keep his head clear. And the effect seemed to go both ways. She blew a sharp, agitated breath out through her nose and pressed her forehead against his shoulder.

"You got this?" Scott asked Derek.

"Go, before they get too far." Scott bolted towards the woods.

Kira wasn't in any danger from Isaac. She wouldn't be out here running with a bunch of werewolves if there was a chance of her getting hurt. As a Kitsune, she was just as fast and as strong as the rest of the pack, and she was invulnerable. More than capable of holding her own.

Scott's concern had more to do with not wanting his girlfriend to have to use those skills. If she and Isaac ended up kicking each other's asses, they'd heal, but it wouldn't be pretty. Everyone loved Kira. It was impossible not to. But at the end of the day, she was still a fox, and they were still wolves. Right now, instinct trumped affection.

"You good?" Stiles smoothed a clawed hand over Malia's hair.

"I'm good." She grinned up at him, looking every bit the predator she was. "Ten-second head start?" They both stared pointedly at Derek. With an irritated snarl, the older Beta turned and sprinted away.

"Close enough," Stiles muttered after a count of three. Derek dropped onto all fours in an attempt to put some distance between them. It worked for a few minutes, until Isaac skidded across his path. They went down in a heap, Derek making a high, startled noise that sounded suspiciously like it would have been a scream had he not been wolfed out.

"Who's hopeless now?" Isaac panted, picking himself up off of the forest floor.

"I never said- ugh!" Derek groaned as Malia landed on top of him. Winded, he rolled onto his side, scrambling to get his bearings again as she circled around for another attack. Stiles leaped over Derek, chasing Isaac deeper into the trees.

Isaac was lighter and faster, and Stiles' legs were burning by the time he finally caught up. Scott was on them before they'd even hit the ground, the Alpha holding Isaac down while Kira dragged Stiles away by his hood.

Before Stiles could shake her off, Malia came bounding up beside them, catching him around the middle and yanking him out of Kira's grasp. They tumbled over twigs and tree roots, shoving at each other until they came to a stop with Malia kneeling over him, claws pressing lightly against his shoulders and her hair tickling his face. Stiles squirmed, trying to unseat her.

Somewhere beside them, he heard Kira say something to Derek about a warthog. Derek barked out a laugh, and then Scott said loudly, "That makes you the parrot, smartass."

"Actually, he is a hornbill. Which you should know, Mr. Vet Tech," Isaac told him, voice muffled by the pile of leaves Scott was currently smushing his face into. Malia's hair was obstructing his view somewhat, but it looked like Scott was sitting on Isaac's back. Both boys were fully human again, as was Derek.

"No one asked you, Pumba," Scott shot back, swatting Isaac's leg.

"Why am I Pumba?" he whined, arching his back in an attempt to buck Scott off.

"Because I said so," Scott grunted, shifting his weight to keep Isaac pinned.

Derek made his way over to Stiles and Malia, seizing his younger cousin under the arms and hauling her up. Stiles made a sound of protest, sitting up and looping his arms around her waist. Derek released his grip, and still facing him, Malia dropped onto his lap, straddling his hips.

She settled closer, tucking her face against his neck. Stiles blinked a few times as the reddish haze tingeing his vision receded, feeling his canines retract. He rubbed Malia's back until she relaxed against him with a contented sigh.

"At least you're the bird and not the whack job baboon," he said. Malia huffed a quiet chuckle against the fabric of his hoodie and Derek rolled his eyes.

"That would be Deaton."

"Did... did you just make a joke?" Stiles gaped at the older wolf.

"I think he did," Scott said, sounding startled. "A funny one, even."

Derek gave him a dirty look, and that was enough to break the stunned silence that had fallen over the group, the teens' peals of laughter echoing through the forest.

~ ~ ~

_Stiles groped frantically along the wall in search of a light switch, or preferably a door, sneakers slipping and squeaking with every step. He didn't need to see to know it was blood slicking the concrete beneath his feet. The cloying, metallic stench filled his nose and coated his tongue, making him gag._

_His toes connected with something solid, sending him sprawling on his hands and knees. Warm, sticky wetness splashed up his bare arms and soaked the fabric of his jeans. He forced himself to keep moving, crawling because he no longer trusted his legs to support him._

_Something brushed against his shoulder, smearing him with more blood. Flinching away from the contact, Stiles whimpered and began to crawl faster. There was a way out of this room. There had to be. He just needed to focus and find it._

_A soft click echoed through the space, and the sudden flood of light blinded him momentarily. Squinting, Stiles shrank back against the wall, throwing an arm up to shield his eyes._

_"Wow. I've really outdone myself this time," said a familiar voice._ No, _he thought._ No, no, no. It can't be. _"Of course, I can't take all the credit. You were a big help."_

_"Go to hell!" Stiles sobbed._

_"From the looks of this place, we're already there."_

_Taking a deep, shaking breath, Stiles lowered his arm. And screamed._

_Suspended from the ceiling of the school's utility room by lengths of chain around their wrists were bodies. Scott. Malia. Lydia. His father. Allison. Derek. Isaac. Kira. Scott's mom. Coach. Danny. Argent. Peter. All brutally beaten. Eviscerated. Their eyes empty and accusing._

_Weaving its way between them was the creature responsible for all of this carnage. A creature wearing his face._

_The Nogitsune crouched in front of him, cupping one bloody hand against Stiles' cheek in a mockingly comforting way. It dragged its thumb across his skin, rubbing away his tears. "You seem shocked," it said quietly. "I'm hurt. Don't you remember all the fun we had? Don't you remember how they begged for you to stop? To save them?"_

_Stiles shoved its arm away, squeezing his eyes shut against the memory of Scott's screams as he drove the katana into his stomach, twisting the blade just to watch him squirm. The pleasure the Nogitsune took in causing Scott pain made the horror and revulsion he felt that much more potent._

_"I didn't do this," Stiles said, hating himself for sounding so frightened and weak. "I didn't do any of this. It wasn't my fault. None of it was my fault."_

_"You keep on telling yourself that if it helps you sleep at night. But their blood is on your hands," it smirked, holding its own up for Stiles to see and chuckling at its own joke. They were, of course, Stiles' hands. He felt nauseous, the sickly feeling bringing with it the rib-crushing pressure that signaled the beginning of a panic attack._

"Stiles."

_His head snapped up, searching out the source of the voice. It was faint, barely a whisper, but he knew he'd heard it. Heard his name. "Malia?"_

_"Malia is dead, kiddo. See?" The Nogitsune waved a hand over its shoulder in the general direction of where her body hung._

"Stiles, please..."

_"Malia," he croaked. It was getting harder to breathe, his vision going blurry._

_Sighing dramatically, the Nogitsune got to its feet. "She can't hear you, Stiles," it chided. "She's gone."_

_"No..."_

_"Look, I'll prove it." It strode over to her corpse, shoving its arm into the gaping wound in her stomach right up to the elbow, rooting around inside. The movement caused a length of intestine to come loose, pooling at the creature's feet._

"Stiles!"

_Her voice was louder now, more insistent. He searched her face for any sign of life, but it was as pale and still as the rest of them._

_The Nogitsune was humming to itself, intent on its task. A few seconds later, it pulled it's arm loose with an awful squelching sound and spun around to face Stiles, clutching something in its fist._

_"Here you go," it said cheerily. "I'm sure she would want you to have that." It lobbed the object towards Stiles, bouncing it off of his heaving chest and into his lap. It was Malia's heart._

_"No," Stiles moaned. "No. Malia. No, no, no, no..."_

_The Nogitsune gave him a pitying look, wiping its bloody fingers on its shirt. "Love's a bitch, isn't it?"_

"Stiles!"

_Batting the organ away, he hauled himself to his feet. One hand braced against the cinder block wall for support, he eyed the door. It was a straight shot across the room. All he had to do was run._

_He stumbled into motion, bumping against bodies like obstacles in a macabre fun house. The chains that bound them creaked rhythmically, the dead weight at their ends swaying and twisting. The Nogitsune's taunting laughter followed him._

_Yanking open the steel fire door, Stiles threw himself into the narrow hallway. His head was spinning and his legs were numb, forcing him to climb the stairs on all fours to keep from falling down them. A hand closed around his ankle, razor sharp nails tearing through denim and sinking into flesh._

_Stiles screamed, kicking out with his other leg to try and free himself. The hand gave a hard tug, sending him tumbling down the cement steps and into the wall. Winded and aching, he struggled to his knees. The hand was back, curling around his throat to pin him against the door. The Nogitsune snarled, blood dripping from its canines and its eyes glowing a vivid, electric blue._

_"You think this is over just because you got away?" it demanded. "You think you're safe? You think your friends are safe?" It wiggled a clawed finger in front of his face in a scolding fashion. "I think you forgot one very important detail, Stiles. I'm just a fox. A trickster. You pal? You're a predator._ You're _the monster."_

"Stiles! Wake the hell up!"

Shaking and gasping, Stiles bolted upright, Malia's grip on his waist the only thing keeping him from falling off the edge of the mattress. He doubled over, fingers digging into her forearm.

"You're okay. You're safe. It was just a dream," she soothed, lips brushing the shell of his ear as she spoke. "You're fine. Just breathe."

Nightmares were nothing new. When you ran with werewolves, you were bound to see and experience things that made getting a good night's sleep problematic from time to time. Between Jackson's stint as a kanima, Jennifer and the Nemeton, and the Nogitsune, it was a miracle Stiles got any rest at all. Without the dementia messing with his head, his recent dreams weren't as vivid or disturbing as they had been in the past. But they still sucked. A lot.

Concentrating on the feel of Malia against his back, Stiles slowly began to get his bearings.

He was in Malia's room at the loft. The pack always ended up back here for the night after a run. That was real. Disney jokes and sparring in the woods. Also real. A basement full of mangled corpses. Not real.

"Are you with me?" Malia asked. Stiles nodded, releasing his grip and letting her pull him more securely onto the bed. Turning in her arms, Stiles buried his face against her neck and breathed. She smelled like wet leaves and night air from their run, artificial citrus, laundry soap, and wolf. Beneath that was the warm, earthy scent that was distinctly Malia.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. She made a dismissive sound and pushed her fingers into his hair, nails scratching lightly at his scalp. He leaned into the touch, letting it ease his frayed nerves.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she offered, pressing a kiss against his temple.

"Nope."

"Do you want to try going back to sleep?"

"Not really."

The minutes ticked by. Stiles closed his eyes, seeking out signs of life in the quiet apartment and reassuring himself the pack was safe. Scott and Kira were next-door in Cora's old room. Derek was asleep downstairs, Isaac snoring softly on the sofa.

This wasn't the first time Stiles had woken Malia up like this.

Whatever Peter had said to Tate when he dropped by the house had done the trick. After an exit interview with one of the psychiatrists at Eichen House, Malia was back at home. A week later, she showed up at the loft, bag in hand.

The truth about who and what Malia really was had put a fairly significant strain on their relationship. Hoping that giving him some time to deal with everything without her around would make it easier for him, Malia moved back into Isaac's old room.

That was four months ago. Aside from the occasional phone call, Malia didn't have much contact with Tate.

The one positive to come out of the situation was that Derek was a very laid back guardian. Between that and all of the double shifts his dad had been pulling to compensate for how understaffed the department still was, Stiles spent a lot of nights sleeping next to Malia.

Granted, all they'd done was sleep - which was probably the only reason Derek was yet to say anything about their arrangement - but Stiles wasn't complaining. Neither of them were quite ready to go there just yet. Malia was still working on being comfortable in her own skin, both literally and figuratively. And Stiles was… Well, Stiles was a mess.

He'd been forced to do some truly awful shit while he was possessed. His memories were still patchy, but he knew what the body count had been. More than enough to earn him a set of blue wolf eyes instead of gold ones. He felt like he'd been branded. Like even with the Nogitsune banished to a place where it could never hurt anyone again, he would never be completely free of it.

So yeah. For now, Stiles was perfectly happy to let Malia's issues keep his issues company while the two of them got to know each other. They had a good thing going, and Stiles was in no rush for anything more. Especially since adding sex to the equation was pretty much guaranteed to put an end to their Derek-sanctioned sleepovers.

And waking up terrified was a lot easier to take when you didn't have to wake up alone.

Experience had taught him that if he didn't lie back down and at least pretend to try and sleep, she would sit up with him for the rest of the night. So that was exactly what he did.

"It's almost daylight," she said once they were curled up under the covers. "We could go for a walk. Maybe pick up breakfast for everyone? The bakery over on Charlton opens at six. We could be back here with fresh croissants by the time everyone wakes up."

"It's raining," Stiles replied.

"Barely." Right on cue, thunder rumbled in the distance.

"You were saying?"

Malia yawned, burrowing against his chest. "Fine. Then I'm not moving until there is both coffee and bacon waiting for me."

"That sounds like a much better plan." The storm outside was gathering strength, pelting the window with raindrops. Dawn would be dreary and gray, promising a lazy Sunday morning for the McCall pack.

Malia was shifting restlessly, very obviously fighting sleep. He wanted to be annoyed with her for being so stubborn when her staying awake was going to accomplish exactly nothing for either of them, but he knew he'd scared her, and she was worried about him.

Closing his eyes again, he forced himself to focus on the steady thrum of rain pounding against the roof, letting it calm him until he dozed off.

It wasn't a particularly deep or restful sleep, every little sound pulling him back to consciousness. A particularly hard gust of wind. Scott getting up to use the bathroom. The increasingly frequent claps of thunder. But Malia was out like a light, which had been the goal.

Eventually, he abandoned sleep completely, content to lie in bed listening to Derek putter around the kitchen until the scent of coffee had Malia stirring.

Scott and Kira were up and moving, talking softly as they made their way past Malia's room and down the spiral staircase. Reluctantly, Stiles pulled away from Malia and sat up, stretching his arms above his head with a jaw-popping yawn.

Malia rolled into the space he'd vacated, snaking an arm around his waist and pressing her face against the small of his back. "Where are you going?" she demanded groggily.

"Breakfast," he told her, reaching back to yank the covers off of her. Malia grunted her displeasure, withdrawing her arm and flopping onto her back. "Up and at 'em," Stiles insisted, grabbing hold of her wrists and hauling her up. "Before Kira steals your mug again."

That got her moving.

The mug in question was bright yellow with a pattern of _Adventure Time_ characters and held roughly half a pot of coffee. It had been a gift from Scott once he discovered Malia's caffeine addiction.

Kira had taken to using it because it let her mix her coffee with an ungodly amount of milk and sugar, to the point where it barely counted as coffee anymore. Stiles was guilty of being a little heavy-handed with the sugar - for which Malia would give him a disgusted look every single time - but even he was appalled by the concoction Kira chose to ingest.

Malia, on the other hand, would fill it right to the brim and drink it black.

Luckily for her, Derek held the same reverence for coffee that Malia did, and was playing an aggressive game of keep away with both Kira and Scott over the mug when they walked into the kitchen. Isaac was sitting at the island, hands curled around one of Derek's plain old gray mugs, watching the display with an expression that said quite plainly that it was way too fucking early for this shit.

Stiles scooped Kira up, throwing her over his shoulder. She let out an indignant shriek but was laughing too hard to put up much of a fight.

The ability to pick up another human being - even a tiny one - with zero effort was something he didn't think he would ever get used to. It gave him a newfound appreciation for the amount of restraint it took for Derek to not snap him like a twig on the numerous occasions in the past when Stiles annoyed him to the point of physical violence.

He sat Kira down gently on the stool beside Isaac. Stiles manhandling Scott's girlfriend was enough of a distraction for the Alpha to forget about the mug momentarily. Derek passed it off to a grateful Malia, turning his attention back to the bacon frying on the stovetop.

"That was uncalled for," Scott said. He sounded affronted, but at the same time was trying very hard not to smile. And failing.

"I'll make it up to her," Stiles replied, stepping around Scott to get the eggs out of the fridge. Digging through Derek's cupboards, he pulled together the necessary ingredients for french toast. He waved a hand at the items, awaiting Kira's approval.

"Apology accepted."

Scott took over bacon duty so that Derek could brew another pot while Stiles got the egg mixture ready.

Derek had never bothered to buy a kitchen table, which meant breakfast was eaten crowded around the island. Isaac and the girls had the stools, so Scott, Stiles, and Derek were stuck standing.

It was nice not to have to rush to class for a change. Even Derek seemed relaxed, all bare toes and bed head, casually sneaking bacon off of Malia's plate just to irritate her. Kira and Isaac were debating the merits of syrup vs. powdered sugar as the better topping for french toast. Despite Kira's best efforts to draw Malia into the argument, she refused on the grounds that it was stupid to talk about food when there was still food to be eaten. His girl was nothing if not practical.

Derek bounced a wadded up napkin off of Isaac's forehead, announcing that they were giving him a headache. For some reason Isaac thought it was appropriate to retaliate by throwing a chunk of bacon at Derek, earning himself clean up duty.

Stiles was feeling much better by the time the food was gone, a full stomach and the loud, happy vibe coming off of his pack mates balancing out his horrible night's sleep. Derek headed upstairs to shower, Scott and Kira retreating to the living room and tidying up Isaac's nest of blanket so they could lounge on the sofa together.

Malia poured them both another cup of coffee, opting for a half mug for herself this time. Stiles plopped down on Isaac's empty stool, and they settled in to watch Isaac wash dishes.

"I hate you both," Isaac grumbled, scrubbing at the frying pan with more force than was necessary.

"You're gonna ruin the finish doing that," Stiles pointed out, taking a sip of his coffee. Malia snorted into her mug, and Stiles could actually hear Isaac's teeth grinding together as he fought the urge to fire off a retort.

"Guys, seriously? Give it a rest!" Scott groaned, shushing a giggling Kira.

Stiles went back to his coffee, opting to stare at the back of Isaac's head until the other Beta got fed up enough to hurl the sopping wet sponge across the room at him. Stiles ducked at the last second, and it sailed past him and out into the living area, hitting the floor with a resounding _smack_.

"Stiles!" Scott yelled.

"Stiles?" he squawked. " _Stiles_ didn't do anything! Stiles is sitting here, minding his own business while things are getting thrown at his head!"

"Stop talking about yourself in the third person, and stop doing whatever you were doing to make Isaac throw things at you," Scott replied. "And you stop encouraging him," he added.

_Me?_ Malia mouthed, pointing at herself. Stiles shrugged.

"Well he wasn't talking to me," Isaac said, glaring at her.

Malia huffed, feigning hurt.

"Don't play innocent. You're just as bad as he is. Both of you get out here," Scott ordered, injecting just enough Alpha authority into his voice to make them comply. Scowling, Malia drained her mug and hopped down from her stool. Isaac gave them a smug look, and they flipped him off as they trudged out of the kitchen.

Pausing to scoop up the sponge, Malia sent it flying in a high arc, landing it in the sink with enough force to soak the front of Isaac's shirt. Grabbing Stiles by the hand, she dragged him past a confused Derek and up the stairs, their laughter drowning out Isaac's furious cursing.

~ ~ ~

"Are you sure this is really what you want?" Stiles set his pen down, giving Lydia his undivided attention. She shrugged, flipping to the next page in her trig textbook. They were sitting across from each other on Kira's bedroom floor, in the middle of studying for next week's midterm when Lydia had announced that she wasn't having a party for her birthday this year.

"I just don't see the point," Lydia said, refusing to look at either of them. "I highly doubt anyone will care."

"But you love throwing parties," Stiles insisted. A Lydia Martin soiree was the pinnacle of the BHHS social scene, regardless of the occasion. And even prom didn't get the kind of turnout Lydia's birthday parties did. It was the event of the year.

Granted, her last birthday party had resulted in her drugging her friends and resurrecting Peter. Not exactly a fun night for anyone, least of all the birthday girl. A little reluctance on her part was understandable.

"Maybe I want this year to be about me, not a houseful of drunken party guests who could care less about why they're actually there." Her tone was firm, no trace of hurt or bitterness, and no blip in her heartbeat to indicate she was being anything less than truthful.

"Fair enough," Stiles said. "So, if you don't want to celebrate with half the town again this year, what do you want to do?"

Kira, who had been lying on her bed, notes spread out around her, carefully got up so that she could perch on the end of the mattress. "Anything you want, we'll make it happen," she said earnestly.

"I was thinking dinner with the pack. Maybe try that new Mexican place that just opened on Cherry last month?" Lydia replied. "I think there are just enough of us to be able to reserve their back room."

"I could always call up the drag queens again if we need a few extra bodies," Stiles suggested.

"Drag queens?" Kira eyed Stiles curiously. "Explain please."

"It's a long story," Stiles replied, flapping his hand dismissively. "And it’s a lot funnier when Scott tells it."

"I appreciate the offer, Stiles, but I think we’ll be fine." Lydia paused, frowning thoughtfully. "Do you think Derek would come?"

"Derek?" Stiles asked. "Huh. I mean, I, I don't see why not. It's a pack thing, right? And it's just food. It's not like we're gonna make him go bowling or something. We're not going bowling, are we?"

"No, we are not going bowling." Lydia rolled her eyes. "I've seen Scott bowl. Even with werewolf reflexes, it wasn't pretty."

"Guess that means ice skating is out, too," Stiles mused. Scott's werewolf healing factor had been the only thing saving him from a concussion that night, and at least one broken bone.

"Okay that I wouldn't mind seeing again sometime," Lydia laughed. "I thought he was faking it at first, but then he ran into the boards and Allison practically had to drag him off of the ice."

"So much for lupine grace," Stiles said, making Lydia laugh even harder. Kira had a hand clapped over her mouth, looking torn between giggling at the vivid mental image they'd no doubt given her and wanting to stick up for her boyfriend, who wasn't here to defend himself.

"But yeah," Stiles continued once they'd composed themselves a little. "As long as we don't make Derek do any of that, I'm sure he'd come to your birthday dinner."

"I'll ask him about it tomorrow," Lydia decided, turning her attention back to her trig notes. The girls began quizzing each other, but Stiles' mind had drifted.

Lydia's new attitude shouldn't have come as a surprise. The past year had been hard on all of them, but Lydia had gotten the worst of it. Peter had mauled her half to death to make a point to Scott, and that had not only led to her being a target for gossip and rumors for weeks afterward, but it had left her with a creepy connection to Peter that she still hadn't been able to shake. And it had jump started her banshee abilities.

Then the whole Kanima mess happened, and it cost her Jackson. While he would never be Stiles' favorite person, the night he finally became a werewolf like he'd wanted so badly had proven that for all his numerous faults, he really, truly loved Lydia. And she loved him. Stiles knew he could never compete with that, so he'd stopped trying. Being Lydia's friend was pretty amazing, and he was glad they'd finally reached that point.

After Jackson, there was the Darach debacle. Finding dead body after dead body had to have been terrifying, but Lydia had handled it like a champ. The motel had fucked all of them up, but she'd been forced to deal with more than even the wolfsbane-dosed werewolves had. They'd been trapped in their own personal nightmares, and Lydia had to not only watch her friends fall apart, but also relive the horrors that had befallen the motel's previous tenants.

All the while she was being used as a pawn by the Alpha Pack in their war against Derek and Scott. Aiden was a complication she honestly could have done without. She'd eventually come to her senses about his involvement in her life, but not before he'd gotten under her skin.

When the Nogitsune had possessed Stiles, Lydia had driven herself crazy trying to find a way to help. When Stiles disappeared, she'd been devastated that her powers were continuously letting her down, leading her to the wrong clues at the wrong time, always a step behind. She'd apologized over and over again after Scott turned him, no matter how many times Stiles told her she had nothing to be sorry for.

And just when they finally thought they had a moment's peace, she lost Aiden and Allison within days of each other.

The Argent's had a long list of allies, every last one of them proving that Allison and her father were the exception, not the rule when it came to hunters. Their closest friends, the Santos family, had helped Gerard raise and train Chris and Kate after their mother died. They'd instilled the code in one child, and reinforced Gerard's fanatical hatred in the other.

Araya Santos had come to town with her sons in the middle of the Nogitsune crisis to reprimand Argent for the state Beacon Hills was in. Naturally, she blamed the Hales - there was bad blood between them that somehow involved Cora, but Derek refused to talk about it - and by extension, the pack and their allies, for the mess Deucalion had caused. Once the dust had settled and they realized the Argents weren't going to do anything about the supernatural creatures still inhabiting the town, they took matters into their own hands.

Ethan and Aiden were gunned down in the woods near the school. Lydia was the first to know. She felt it happen, like she had all the other times before, dragging Stiles and Scott with her because she was tired of finding bodies alone. They went after Derek next, but Allison beat them to the loft, putting arrows in two of Araya's men when they wouldn't back down.

Her father showed up before things could really get out of hand, and managed to negotiate a truce between the McCall pack and the Santos family. Argent explain who the pack members were, their stories and everything he'd seen them do to protect the town and the people in it.

The agreement was that the Santos family and the rest of their monster hunting buddies would stay out of Beacon Hills, leaving the town and any issues that cropped up in it for the pack to deal with. Their one condition was that the Argents had to leave as well. It wasn't unheard of for a wolf pack to be a force for good instead of a threat, but hunters working alongside a pack? That was pushing it. Their precious code wouldn't allow it.

A week later, Allison was gone. She had a one-way ticket to France and a spot at the same boarding school her dad and aunt had attended while they completed their training. Argent had moved to their safe house in Washington while he tied up loose ends, before joining his daughter overseas.

If either of them set foot in California again, it would be open season on the pack.

Allison fought her dad every step of the way, but in the end, the only way for her to protect her friends was to let them protect themselves. Their one small victory was that the embargo placed on the Argents only applied to Allison's physical presence. She kept in regular contact with the pack, Skyping with Lydia every weekend and texting everyone almost daily.

Having Allison in Europe also meant that she was in a position to reach out to Derek's wayward Beta. Stiles had long suspected that Derek had been keeping tabs on him, but no one had heard from Jackson since that night in the warehouse. Not even Danny.

So began Operation: Blue Moon. Because Stiles couldn't pass up the opportunity to make an _American Werewolf_ joke.

With no hunters in their corner anymore, the pack had to rely on their own strength and abilities to protect themselves. Kira was a force to be reckoned with, but without the twins, there were only five Betas left in Scott's pack. One of which was Peter and no one was really sure if he counted or not. Regardless, Scott seemed perfectly happy with that number, but Stiles was not.

Isaac had brought up recruiting once, and it hadn't gone over well. Given that they needed the numbers boost for the sake of defending against whatever the Nemeton attracted to town next, Scott wasn't about to put anyone else in the direct line of fire. Especially not someone he liked and trusted enough to offer the bite.

That left Jackson as their best option.

Once Malia 'officially' joined Scott's pack, Lydia appointed herself Malia's tutor. Anytime she wasn't spending on her own school work was devoted to pouring over requirements and guidelines and throwing together lesson plans and quizzes to help Malia make up for the years she'd lost after the accident.

Between classes and at lunch, Lydia kept to the pack. She sat with Kira and Malia at the guys' lacrosse games and avoided the after parties. It wasn't so much that she was suddenly becoming antisocial. More like at some point in the midst of their last major supernatural crisis, she decided that being Lydia Martin, Queen Bee just wasn't worth the effort anymore.

She seemed a lot happier these days, all things considered. But as a thinly-veiled excuse for luring Jackson back stateside, it did the trick. _The girl you keep pretending isn't your soul mate misses you_ sounded much better than _things keep trying to kill us so you should totally come back to Beacon Hills and die along with the rest of the pack_.

Allison thought that was an excellent plan. She wheedled Jackson's contact information out of Derek under the pretense of wanting to visit him once she was settled. Jackson had dodged her at first, but Allison was nothing if not determined.

They'd been meeting for lunch in Paris every other weekend for the last four months. Allison would catch the train into the city on a day pass from campus with a bunch of other students. She had her roommate convinced that Jackson was her boyfriend, and her father didn't approve. It was all very cloak and dagger, but she didn't want to risk word getting back to her extended family that she was spending time with a werewolf. They didn't need to know there was a young and inexperienced Omega living in London.

The lie gave her the freedom to do as she pleased without any of her friends asking too many questions, and had the added bonus of making them perfectly willing to cover for her. Allison had been cagey with the details, but apparently, their love story was incredibly romantic. Based heavily on her relationship with Scott, no doubt. Stiles had laughed himself to the point of tears when she told him what she was up to. The best part was that Jackson had no idea.

One of her classmates had set her up with an encrypted email address (as far as Stiles was concerned that was just further proof that Allison's boarding school was really some sort of international super spy training facility), which she'd been using to keep Stiles updated. Lately, that included stupid photos of the two of them playing tourist. They'd even spent a day at Disneyland Paris that left Stiles in possession of a spectacular bit of blackmail material in the form of Jackson in a sparkly Rapunzel tiara.

Stiles was starting to feel a little guilty about taking Jackson away from her. He was her last tie to Beacon Hills, and before her mom died the two of them had been pretty good friends. He'd said as much when the photos started appearing in his inbox, but Allison was adamant that the pack had to come first. So Operation: Blue Moon was proceeding full steam ahead.

~ ~ ~

Ahora's was noisy and crowded, and for a long, nerve-wracking moment Stiles was convinced they were going to have to make some quick revisions to their plan. The hostess led the three boys to the back of the restaurant, weaving through narrow gaps between the tiny square tables that took up most of the main dining area.

The walls were lined with booths, their table tops sporting the same bright tile pattern as their free standing counterparts. The primary colors theme carried over into the linoleum flooring and the light fixtures, standing out sharply against the dark wood of the walls, booths, and chairs.

Their 'special event' room was tucked away in the corner of the building opposite the kitchen. The décor was the same as the rest of the restaurant, but thankfully the swinging double doors that separated them from the other patrons muffled most of the sound.

The rest of the pack was already seated around the large oval table that took up most of the room. Stiles dropped into the empty seat between Malia and Derek, Scott sitting across from them next to Kira, Isaac on his other side.

As discussed, Kira had made sure that Lydia was at the head of the table, facing the doors. The seat across from her was left vacant.

Stiles had recruited her to help him with the final phase of his and Allison's plan. He hadn't told her everything, giving her plausible deniability should it not go over as well as he hoped. He knew Kira would be more than happy to help them do something nice for Lydia. He just hoped she wouldn't be too upset with him over his little lie of omission.

"I hope you guys don't mind, but we kinda just went ahead and ordered a little of everything," Malia informed them, flipping her menu to the beverage section and passing it to Stiles.

"That's probably what we would have ended up doing anyway," Scott replied. "Thanks."

Ahora's served all of their food family-style, which meant a little of everything guaranteed something for everyone.

"So we sort of have a surprise for you," Stiles told Lydia once the waitress had brought everyone their drinks and some chips and salsa for them to munch on while they waited for their meal.

"It had better not involve sparklers or singing wait staff," Lydia warned. "I'm seventeen, not seven."

"Um, there may be singing involved," Kira told her, digging her tablet out of her bag. "But that is completely out of our hands." She flipped the case open and tapped the screen a few times before passing the device to Isaac and gesturing for him to prop it up on the table between himself and Derek.

A moment later, Allison's smiling face appeared. "Bonne fete, ma belle!"

"Merci!" Lydia replied, beaming. "How are you?"

"I'm good. What about you? How's your day been so far?"

"It's been nice. Uneventful, which is exactly what I was hoping for."

"I'm glad to hear it. I miss you," she added, pouting.

"I miss you, too."

"We all miss you," said Scott.

"I miss everyone!" Allison leaned forward, tilting her head like she was trying to peer past the edge of her screen. "Is the whole pack there? Can I say hi to all of you?"

"Gang's all here," Stiles told her.

Allison squinted, pursing her lips. "I'm missing two of you. Show yourselves!" she demanded. Isaac and Derek exchanged a look, then each stuck a hand out in front of the tablet and waved.

"That's not what I meant!" she laughed. Isaac snagged the tablet and angled it towards himself.

"Better?" he asked.

"Much. Hi."

"Hi."

Allison chatted with the three of them and Lydia for a few minutes before asking Isaac to flip her around to face the rest of the pack.

"Hi, Derek. Staying out of trouble?"

"For the moment," he replied.

"That's reassuring." Allison's phone chirped. She ducked out of frame to check it, and when she reappeared, she was grinning. "Right on schedule," she said.

Stiles' stomach gave a queasy lurch, nerves starting to get the better of him. Beneath the table, Malia caught hold of his fingers to still their insistent tapping against his knee and gave him a questioning look. He shook his head ever so slightly and tugged his hand free, hoping Malia would catch his meaning and not do anything to attract attention.

He could feel Kira staring at him from across the table. Ignoring her, he leaned across Derek to move the tablet back to its original position.

"What's going on?" Lydia narrowed her eyes suspiciously, gaze moving from Allison to Stiles and back.

"Your present just arrived," Allison explained.

"Arrived where? Here?"

"Uh huh," Allison nodded. "I'm having it delivered by special courier."

The five werewolves and Kira all swiveled their heads towards the doors in tandem. While Kira was just curious, Stiles knew that like him, the other wolves were reacting on instinct. Not even the myriad of smells coming from the kitchen could cover the scent of werewolf at such close range. Derek's eyes went wide in recognition a split second before the doors swung inward.

To her credit, Lydia maintained her composure. Her expression remained impassive, despite the fact that her heart sounded like it was intent on beating its way out of her ribcage. Kira looked confused, Malia wary. Scott and Derek were staring in silent shock, and Isaac chuckled, shaking his head.

"I hope you kept the receipt," Lydia said finally.

Jackson scowled. "Relax. There's an actual present." He held up the ribbon-adorned box in his hands, rattling it for emphasis.

Lydia squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. "If that's Allison's gift, then where's yours?" she asked icily.

"I don't know what you were so worried about, Stilinski." Jackson pulled a second, much smaller box out of the pocket of his jacket. "She seems like the same old Lydia to me."

"This was your idea?" she hissed, fixing Stiles with a withering glare.

"Ah…" he began, shrinking back from the intensity of her wrath.

"And mine," Allison piped up. "Please don't be mad. It's not what it looks like," she insisted.

"So you didn't conspire behind my back to bring my jerk of an ex back into the country _on my birthday_ after he walked away from me without so much as a fucking text message?"

"W-well, um, it maybe have been poorly timed. I will admit that," Stiles said. "But we, uh, we didn't-"

"I didn't come back for you," Jackson interrupted. "And I'm not technically _back_. Not yet, anyway."

"Then what are you doing here?" she demanded.

"I've been hanging out with Allison. She filled me in on everything that happened after I left. And it sounds to me like the pack could use some help."

"You came back to Beacon Hills for us?" Scott asked.

"I'm here because I never wanted to leave in the first place. London sucks. It's wet, and cold, and the food is disgusting. I'm here for a week to see my parents. And if… if you'll let me join the pack, I'll be back for good in June." It sounded like it physically pained him to spit that last bit out.

"Join the pack?" Scott repeated, dumbfounded. Stiles chanced a look at Allison, who was watching Scott anxiously. At least, he assumed it was Scott. It was hard to tell, but she seemed like she was looking in his general direction.

"Oh! You're Jackson!" Kira blurted out suddenly.

Jackson blinked, like he'd only just noticed her sitting there. "And you must be Kira."

"Yes. That, ah, that's me. Hi." She waved awkwardly. "It's, uh, nice to meet you?"

"Likewise." He gave her a small but genuine smile, and she relaxed a little. Jackson turned his attention to the other new face in the room, giving Malia a long, appraising look.

"Malia," she offered when he failed to follow that up with words of any sort.

"And you're dating Stiles?"

"Yes," Stiles snapped defensively. The disbelief in his tone was completely uncalled for.

Jackson shrugged. "She's hot," he said by way of explanation.

Malia let out a startled laugh. "Is this guy for real?"

"I am so glad you're back." It figured that when Isaac finally contributed to the conversation, it would be massively unhelpful.

"Thanks, Isaac. At least someone is happy to see me."

"I'm happy to see you," Scott told him.

"That's because you're too nice for your own good, McCall."

"Maybe. But if you're serious about joining the pack, then I really am happy you're here. Tonight was probably not the time to do this, but Stiles and Allison had the right idea getting you to come home."

"Tonight was my idea," Allison insisted. "Lydia, I'm so sorry. I just… I really thought you'd be at least a little bit happy to see him."

"I'm not mad at you. I promise." Lydia pushed her chair back, coming around the table to take the gifts from Jackson."Our food should be here soon, so you might as well sit down."

"Are you sure? I don't want to ruin your birthday."

"The only thing that will ruin my birthday is if there are no macaroons in here." Lydia tapped the top of the larger box with her nail, and Allison laughed, sounding relieved.

"Well, then I guess you better open it and find out," she said.

Jackson lingered uncertainly near the door for a few more seconds, but Lydia was already walking away from him, her attention on Allison's gift. He took the empty seat and scooped up the tablet.

"Hey!" Allison gasped. "Put me down!"

Holding the device at arm's length, he made a face at her and said, "Nice to see you too."

"Okay. Go ahead," Allison instructed Lydia once she was safely back on the table top. The box contained a sleeve of the aforementioned French pastries, a dress from some boutique Stiles had never heard of, and an Eifel Tower keychain.

"Seriously?" Lydia groaned, brandishing the tiny metal landmark at the camera.

"Oh come on! It's cute!"

"It's ridiculous."

"And you love it."

"I love it," she agreed, grinning ruefully. "And the dress is fabulous. Thank you. For everything."

"You're welcome. Now open Jackson's. I helped pick it out," she added when Lydia looked uncertainly at the little paper-wrapped square.

"Fine." Lydia tore into the package and popped the lid off. Beneath a thin layer of foam was a pair of earrings, square cut green stones set in what looked like white gold, and a matching bracelet with smaller bits of the same stone scattered along the metal circlet at regular intervals.

Lydia pressed her lips together in a thin line, holding the bracelet up to inspect it. "They're beautiful. Thank you." Her voice was soft, and there was warmth in her smile.

"I'm glad you like it," Jackson replied, and Stiles let out the breath he'd been holding. Maybe tonight wouldn't be a total disaster after all.

"He may be a jerk, but he's a jerk with great taste," Allison said. Lydia gently placed the bracelet back in its box, nodding in agreement.

"Hey!" Jackson whined. "I'm sitting right here."

"And on that note, I have to go." That got a round of protests from the entire table. "I know! I'm sorry!" Allison held up her hands to shush them. "But I have a competition in Brussels this weekend, and the train leaves at six am. And it's almost one already."

Extracurriculars were mandatory for all of the students at Allison's school, so naturally, she'd joined the archery team.

"Okay. Fine. I'll allow it," Lydia sighed.

"Good luck tomorrow," Scott said, and the pack began talking over each other, everyone trying to get in their own best wishes and goodbyes all at once. Allison covered her face with her hands, shoulders shaking with helpless laughter.

"Okay! Bye!" She had to shout to be heard over the cacophony of voices. With one final wave, she disconnected the call.

Isaac passed the tablet back to Kira, and once it was stowed safely back in her bag Stiles turned to Lydia and asked, "So I kinda figured you'd forgive Allison, but how much trouble am I in?"

"I haven't decided yet," Lydia told him, stuffing the torn pieces of wrapping paper and Jackson's gift in with Allison's and tucking it under her chair. "We'll see how the rest of the night goes."

"Fair enough. And you?"

Kira seemed surprised by the question, like it hadn't occurred to her to be upset until Stiles brought it up. She hummed thoughtfully. "Well, I get the feeling Jackson would have shown up here regardless of whether or not I helped you with the Skype thing. So we're good."

"Cool. And, uh, thanks for that, by the way."

"No problem."

"So how long have you been scheming with Allison for exactly?" Derek asked.

"A while," Stiles admitted. "Like, pretty much the entire time Allison has been in France. And it wasn't scheming so much as a really drawn out sales pitch."

"He's right," Jackson confirmed. "We were just catching up until Allison started talking about magic trees and human sacrifices, and the fact that no one in this town is human anymore."

"How much did she tell you exactly?" Scott frowned, eyes going to Kira. Scott was deeply protective of his pack, and the thought of Allison sharing their secrets with someone Scott wasn't sure he could trust was clearly not sitting well with the Alpha.

"She told me that you're running the show these days. Which I'll admit is probably best for everyone involved. So congrats on that, I guess." Derek made an offended noise, but Jackson ignored him. "I know about the Alpha pack. I know you bit Stiles because he was dying. And possessed, apparently. I know Lydia is a banshee, and Kira is a… Nogi-something."

"Kitsune," Kira corrected him. "Stiles was the Nogitsune. Well, no. He wasn't one. He was possessed by one. And we don't talk about that," she said quickly, shooting Stiles an apologetic glance. Isaac snorted, and Scott punched him in the shoulder.

"Right," Jackson said, rolling his eyes. "Anyway. I know about all of that, and the shadow ninjas. And I know that that's Peter's kid." He jerked a thumb in Malia's direction.

"That about covers it," Isaac affirmed. "And somehow that made you want to come back here?"

"Hell no. But I really do hate England. And, I'm over this whole lone wolf thing. It's…" he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Wolves are pack animals," Derek said quietly. "So are werewolves. We're not made to be on our own."

A heavy, uncomfortable silence settled over the room. Out of all of them, Jackson was the only one who had actively sought out the bite. He wanted to be a werewolf. Everything went so wrong so fast, he never got the chance to enjoy any of the good parts about what he was. And he didn't have anyone to help him deal with the crappy parts.

It was a mark of how much Stiles had grown up in the past few months that he felt genuinely sorry for Jackson. He'd brought all of this on himself by refusing to listen to Scott, but no one could have predicted it would turn out the way it did. And if he was willing to make an actual effort and stop being an asshat, it might be nice to have him around again.

The arrival of their food saved them from any further awkward conversation. Malia hadn't been joking about there being a little of everything. The table was laden with an obscene amount of dishes by the time the servers had brought the whole order out to them. But given that seven of the eight people present had superhuman appetites, it wouldn't take long to make all of it disappear.

Soon enough, everyone was laughing and talking. And of course, bickering.

_Hey! Don't hog all of that!_

_Who took the sour cream?_

_Touch my plate again, and I'm gonna stab you with a fork._

_There's a whole other thing of it right here. Calm down._

_Are we out of tortilla chips already?_

_Don't you dare throw that! We are not children!_

_Oh sure. You'll share with him…_

_Did you seriously just stuff that entire thing in your mouth?_

_Stop reaching across the table! Use your words._

_Dibs on the last enchilada!_

_Did you just… you're not_ really _going to eat that are you?_

_Anyone gonna finish that?_

"Oh my god. I can't even move," Stiles groaned, slumping down in his chair.

"I can't believe we ate all of that," Scott said. "I'm not sure if I should be impressed or appalled."

"Both," Malia replied, leaning against Stiles and dropping her head onto his shoulder. "Both is good."

"So McCall, Allison said something about you guys turning together during the full moon. How does that work? I thought the whole point was to try and 'resist the moon' or whatever?"

"We figured out a way to make it safe that didn't involve locking anyone up," Scott explained. "So we sort of just, run around out by the Hale house."

"It's like Fight Club, except everyone cuddles after," Stiles added.

"I'm sorry, what?" Jackson looked positively horrified.

"That was one time!" Isaac snapped. "And it was because it was the only way to calm you down."

"He's just mad that Scott wouldn't let him be the big spoon," Stiles smirked. Isaac scowled, flicking a stray piece of lettuce across the table at him.

"Why the hell did I ever come back here?" Jackson said, giving Derek an exasperated look. Derek shrugged, shaking his head. _Leave me out of this._

"I'm kidding," Stiles told him. "Sort of. It was a one-time thing. And there were other factors involved. Point is, the Fight Club thing isn't far off, but there is no obligatory pack cuddling. We do, however, crash at the loft after."

"I am not a part of any of that," Lydia spoke up. "I just set up the emitters."

"What the hell is an emitter?"

"We'll show you this summer," Scott promised.

"Based on what I'm seeing so far, I think I might have to reconsider this whole pack thing."

"I doubt that. You had your mind made up before you got on that plane."

"Right," Jackson scoffed.

"You know how dangerous Beacon Hills is. You know that coming back means agreeing to protect not only the people in this room but the entire town. It would mean putting the pack first and following my orders. And yet here you are. Because you know it would also mean that we'd have your back no matter what. You know exactly what you want, Jackson. All you have to do is ask."

Jackson ducked his head, squeezing his eyes shut and making a sharp, frustrated sound. "Okay. I want in."

"See? That wasn't so bad, was it?" Scott teased.

Sighing heavily, he said, "I regret this already."

"Does Danny know you're back yet?" Scott asked.

"Not yet," Jackson replied. "I was planning to go see him tomorrow. Why?"

"We've sort of been talking for a while now about whether or not to tell him about, well, everything. He kinda keeps getting caught up in whatever happens to be going on with us, so it's probably about time he knew. Maybe he'd take it better coming from you?"

"Danny already knows."

"Come again?" Stiles leaned forward, palms on the table to give himself a clear view of Jackson's face. There was no way he'd heard that right.

"I told him everything before I left for London. He'd already figured most of it out. He's not stupid, and you guys aren’t exactly subtle," Jackson explained. "Oh, and thanks for letting him date one of the psychos that helped kill Erica and Boyd. That was awesome of you."

"He was the less-psycho one," Stiles muttered.

"He really did care about Danny," Scott offered sheepishly. "Ethan actually saved his life a couple of times."

"Whatever. I'll give him an update when I talk to him."

Their waitress appeared to start clearing the table, and Jackson offered to get the check. That earned him an invitation to come back to Lydia's with everyone else so she could open the rest of her gifts. She hadn't wanted to do it at the restaurant because apparently, that was 'tacky.'

The girls were spending the night. According to Malia, this was going to involve a bunch of homemade beauty treatments, chick-flicks, and a lot of wine. It went without saying that this meant Stiles would be getting stupid picture-texts from her all night.

In the restaurant parking lot, Derek handed Malia's overnight bag off to her and said his goodbyes. Fond as he was of his pack mates, there was a limit to the amount of time he was willing to spend with them. They were still a bunch of kids, a fact that had not escaped his notice. He was probably looking forward to having Malia out of the loft for the night since her presence usually meant that there would be at least two other teenagers there with her eating his food and being loud and teenagery.

Stiles secretly hoped that Peter would decide to drop by just to spoil his peace and quiet.

At the house, Lydia's mom peeked into the living room to say hello, seeing as most of them were also her students now. She stuck around through the gift opening, fussing over Jackson. He preened under the attention, and by the time Mrs. Martin disappeared upstairs for the night, Lydia had this look on her face like she wasn't sure if she wanted to choke him or kiss him.

Lydia kicked the guys out shortly after that. "I had better see you again before you leave," she threatened, pulling Jackson in for a hug. "You still owe me an explanation for last summer. And a proper apology."

"Dinner Tuesday night? The bistro on 7th?"

"It’s a date," she agreed, kissing his cheek. "I'm still furious with you," she said, giving him a hard look when he broke into a smug grin. "But I'm glad you're okay."

"For what it's worth, I really have missed you," he told her.

"Save it for Tuesday," she replied, stepping around him to open the front door and making a shooing motion.

"So, Stiles is coming over to play XBOX with me and Isaac. You're welcome to join us if you want to," Scott offered as Stiles unlocked the Jeep.

"Sure. Why not."

"Okay. Good. Just, follow us," Scott instructed.

Jackson, as it turned out, was terrible at Halo. He was also terrible at losing gracefully. Stiles could not for the life of him remember the last time he had laughed that hard.

~ ~ ~

Stiles headed straight up to his room after lacrosse practice, throwing himself face down on his bed with a loud, miserable groan. Coach had been in a particularly crappy mood today and made the team run laps as a result.

He had every intention of taking a nap before dinner. Toeing off his sneakers, he stretched out on top of the covers and buried his face in his pillow. As soon as he'd gotten comfortable, his phone rang.

"Ugh," he groaned, sorely tempted to ignore it. It wasn't often anyone bothered to call him rather than text, which meant it was probably important. He dug the offending object out of his jeans and hit the touch screen with an unnecessary amount of force.

"Yo."

_"You need to come to the loft,"_ Derek said, sounding anxious enough to send Stiles from half-asleep to panicking in the time it took him to sit up.

"What? Why? What happened?" he demanded, already reaching for his abandoned shoes.

_"I'm not sure. She won't come out of her room, and she won't talk to me."_ Malia. Stiles' heart sank.

"What did you do to her?" he demanded, because blaming Derek mean it couldn't be nearly as serious as he was making it out to be.

_"Nothing! She was fine when I left this morning, and when I came back she... wasn't. I don't know what's wrong, but she's upset. Really upset. I can feel her pain from here."_ Something really was wrong. The fact that she'd chose to hole up instead of reaching out to Stiles or Lydia was not a good sign. It was not a good sign at all. _Fuck._

"I'm on my way." Stiles disconnected the call before Derek could reply, jamming his phone into the pocket of his hoodie and snatching his keys off of his desk.

He made the drive to the loft in record time, sending a silent apology to his dad for every traffic law he broke along the way. Derek was already hauling the loft door open when Stiles stepped out of the elevator. He looked much calmer than he'd sounded on the phone, which was a positive. Derek tended not to emote much unless the situation was dire.

Stiles moved past him without so much as a hello, heading straight for the stairs.

"Malia?" he called out, taking the steps two at a time. "It's me." He paused outside her door, hand hovering over the knob. Derek may have been hesitant to snap the lock, but Stiles would have no problem doing so if it came to that. "It's Stiles. Can I come in?"

The only response was a muffled sob. The sound tore straight through him, lodging itself under his ribs. Pressing his fist against his mouth, he closed his eyes and forced himself to take a deep, calming breath. The hallway reeked like tears and despair, and it made him want to break something. "Look, whatever it is, we'll figure it out, okay?" he promised, fighting to keep his voice even. "Just, just open the door. Please."

There was a faint rustle of fabric, followed by the creak of mattress springs. A moment later, the lock clicked. When the door stayed shut, Stiles twisted the handle and saw that she'd already retreated back to her bed.

Malia was curled up against the headboard, wearing one of Stiles' hoodies with the sleeves pulled down over her hands, knees tucked against her chest. There were crumpled tissues scattered on the floor around the trash can by the door, and the box was lying on its side near her feet.

Easing the door shut behind him, Stiles stepped around the tissues and climbed up beside her. Her face was blotchy and tear streaked, and her eyes were swollen and red, lashes clumped together. She looked like she'd been crying for hours. She sniffled, wiping at her cheek with the cuff of her sweater.

Wordlessly, Stiles pulled her against him. She clung to him, shifting until she was practically in his lap. He smoothed her hair back from her face, tucking the strands behind her ear. She made a soft, unhappy sound, fingers digging into his shoulder.

"He doesn't want to be my dad anymore," she whispered against his chest.

"I'm sorry, what?" He'd been running through possible scenarios in his head on the drive over, but that had not been one of them.

"He left. A week ago. Didn't bother to tell me until now," she replied miserably.

_Tate,_ he realized. Peter had been at the loft with them the night before. Lydia had allowed him to stay while the two of them went through Macbeth with Malia as part of her English Lit program. He was actually being helpful, going so far as to indulge them with a dramatic reading of Macbeth's death scene that even Lydia laughed at.

"He left?" Stiles asked, trying to make sense of what she was telling him. "Left for where?"

"Illinois."

"I'm sure this is just a big misunderstanding. When is he back? We'll go see him and-"

"He's not coming back," she said, sounding resigned.

"What do you mean he's not coming back?" Stiles demanded, confusion giving way to anger. "He just, skipped town without saying goodbye? Why would he do that?"

"My- his brother tried for years after the accident to get him leave Beacon Hills." Malia repositioned herself so that she wasn't speaking directly into the fabric of his t-shirt. "He owns a construction company with his brother-in-law. Said he'd give him a job. Help him start over. But he couldn't do it. Not when he didn't know for sure what happened to me. And now he knows. Knows that I murdered his wife and child. That I'm not his. He doesn't have a reason to stay anymore," she finished bitterly.

"Malia..." Stiles said helplessly. He'd known that the longer Malia spent living with Derek, the less likely it was that she would end up back with Tate. But for him to up and leave her like this? That Stiles did not see coming.

"He called this morning to let me know. I'll be eighteen soon, so guardianship isn't really an issue," she told him. "I can register myself for school in the fall, and he gave me the number for his brother's lawyer in case Peter needs him to sign any paperwork in the meantime to officially make me his problem."

"His _problem_?" Stiles snapped, startling himself with the amount of venom in his tone.

"He may have worded it a little differently, but the sentiment was there."

"Wow. That's cold."

"Can't blame him. I wouldn't want anything to do with me, either." Malia sounded tired, the hurt and the fight going out of her.

"Absolutely I can," Stiles insisted. "If he doesn't want to be a part of your life, that's his loss. And he has no right to make you feel like crap for it. You didn't ask to be Peter's kid. You didn't ask to be a werewolf."

"I should never have told him the truth," she said softly, the faintest tremor in her voice hinting at more tears to come.

"That wouldn't have been fair to either of you." Stiles adjusted his grip, as if holding her tightly enough would somehow make everything okay again. Nothing could touch her as long as she was in his arms.

"But it would have hurt less."

"I'm so sorry, Malia." He hated this. He'd lost count of the number of times over the last few months where he'd screamed himself awake, and all it had taken was her fingers in his hair, her lips against his skin, and his world had been made right again.

And now that Malia was the one falling apart at the seams, there wasn't a damn thing he could do to fix it. He couldn't kiss away the hurt of being abandoned by the one person who was supposed to love you unconditionally, no matter what.

"I know this really sucks," he said lamely, wincing at his choice of words the moment they came out of his mouth. "But don't forget that you have a lot of people here that love you. You're gonna be okay."

She was shaking, silent sobs wracking her frame. Sliding his hand under her knees, he lifted her on to his lap and curled his fingers against the back of her head, his other hand rubbing wide, soothing circles against her back. Malia sucked in a sharp breath, pressing her face against the side of his neck and beginning to cry in earnest.

Downstairs, there was a sudden loud crash, indicating that Derek had heaved something heavy against the wall. He hadn't been here when the phone call happened, but there was no doubt that he'd heard every word that had been said since Stiles arrived.

Derek could go ahead and rage for the both of them. Stiles couldn't be angry right now. He needed to be calm and still and reassuring, and give Malia something to cling to that wasn't her own heartache. Taking away physical pain was simple, but emotional pain was trickier.

The whole 'good vibes' thing sounded ridiculous, but it was surprisingly effective. Granted, it worked better and faster if there were more werewolves around to contribute, but Stiles would have to make do. He'd have to be enough. For Malia's sake, he would make himself enough.

Stiles lost track of how long they'd been sitting here like this. Derek had left a while ago, finally realizing that he wasn't helping the situation by stomping around the loft and seething. He just hoped Derek hadn't done anything stupid like gone to see Peter. Having him here would only make things worse. There would be plenty of time for him to talk this through with Malia once she was feeling a little less raw.

Her tears had finally stopped, the occasional hiccup breaking up the quiet that had settled over them. The front of his t-shirt was soaked, as was the shoulder of his hoodie. Stiles was starting to think she'd fallen asleep when she suddenly picked her head up, her face sticking to the skin of his neck. She let out a short, embarrassed laugh as she pulled herself free.

Stiles did his very best not to look totally grossed out. He apparently didn’t do a very good job, because she gave him a sheepish smile and clambered off of him.

"I'm gonna go take a shower," she said. "I'm a mess."

"You're beautiful," he told her. She was snotty and disheveled, and he was saying it for her benefit but found himself actually meaning it. Yes, she looked more like a troll than a teenage girl at the moment, but she was still perfect.

Malia paused with her hand on the doorknob, throwing him a dirty look over her shoulder. "Fine. A _beautiful_ mess. Still showering."

"I'll be right here," he promised.

Once he heard water running in the bathroom at the end of the hall, Stiles got up and started gathering up the tissues that had missed the trash and stuffed them into the little plastic bin. Next, he shrugged out of his hoodie and peeled off his gross, soggy t-shirt, balling the two items up and tossing them into a corner to deal with later.

He snagged one of the shirts he kept in the bottom drawer of Malia's dresser and headed down to the kitchen, using a wad of wet paper towel and a dab of hand soap to scrub at his neck and chest before pulling it over his head. Back in Malia's room, he moved the kleenex box back to her nightstand and kicked off his sneakers and jeans.

His dad would be home from work by now and was probably wondering where Stiles was. Sure enough, there was a text from him sitting in Stiles' inbox from almost forty minutes ago. Sitting on the end of the bed, he sent him a quick reply.

_Wasn't ignoring you. At the loft. Tate skipped town. Malia's not taking it well. Staying here tonight. Will be home b4 school._

A few minutes later, his phone buzzed with a reply.

_Sry to hear that. Need me to bring u anything?_

Stiles chewed on his thumb, considering. He had a toothbrush and everything stashed here from his many previous nights spent at the loft, but his dad did not need to know that. He also had chemistry and law homework, but even if he had it here, he knew he wouldn't be able to concentrate. _No, I'm good. Thanks._

_Ok. See u tomorrow._

The shower shut off as Stiles was setting the alarm on his phone. Setting it next to the kleenex box, he crawled under the covers and faced the wall. The door swung open a few minutes later, and he listened to Malia move around the room, opening and closing drawers, dressing, and dragging a brush through her wet hair.

The light clicked off, and she slid into bed behind him. "Such a gentleman," she teased, pressing a kiss against his shoulder. Stiles rolled over, slipping his arm around her waist and tugging her flush against him.

"Did the shower help?" he asked, resting his cheek against the top of her head and breathing in the smell of her shampoo.

"I feel human again, so I guess it’s a start," she replied, yawning. "Hey. I thought your dad was on days this week?"

"He is. I talked to him. Told him I wasn't coming home."

"He's okay with that?"

"Completely," he assured her.

"Good." Malia slipped her leg between his, hooking her ankle against his calf and pulling herself in closer. Once they'd gotten comfortable, she said, "I'm glad you're here. I'm sorry I didn't call you."

"It's okay."

"I should probably apologize to Derek tomorrow," she added. "I shouldn't have shut him out like that. I just…"

"Hey. Don't worry about it. Just get some sleep. You're exhausted." He felt her nod, and a few minutes later, she was out.

It was still early, and Stiles laid awake until he heard Derek come home. The older wolf made his way upstairs, quietly pushing Malia's bedroom door open just enough to poke his head inside. The sight of her calm and unconscious seemed to reassure him because even in the dark Stiles could see the tension leave his shoulders.

Once Derek had retreated back to the main floor, Stiles closed his eyes and let himself drift off.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I ended up with a lot of exposition here. But I swear, every last bit of it will prove to be vital information moving forward.
> 
> Also, the next story is about halfway done, so I hope to have it posted in the next couple of weeks. In the meantime, you can always come find me on [tumblr](http://rockmusicplays.tumblr.com/)


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